Child of None
by Lava Puppy
Summary: The bloodline continues, with the absence of Altair. But he drops in every so often...even if they do not realize it. Will not follow any story line. Just drabbles. Altair/Maria sort of. If you squint. Rated T for safety only.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I do not in any way profit from this, Assassin's Creed does not belong to me in any way whatsoever.

* * *

The night was inky black, the city of Acre lit up solely by the stars and the moon. The streets had few lights from the houses, because the moon was high and most were in their beds, waiting in dreamland for their reality to claim them back. But there was one of the few lit windows, on an otherwise dead street, that was most important to one individual at the moment. Lit by a flickering oil lamp on a table, a small cot sat next to it. A pile of pillows and blankets in the corner opposite was occupied by a sleeping woman, with black hair and soft features. But outside the window, crouched on the tree branch outside, was another figure. Dressed completely in white, with leather and a red sash.

Altair knelt outside the room, staring inside at the little body that lay in the little, secure sleeping place. Occasionally his sights would drift to the young woman that had birthed the child, and he had nothing but affectionate thoughts for her. But the child...he had never thought about it before...being a father.

His eyes were drawn away from the sleeping woman by a slight whimper. The babe squirmed as a colder breeze swirled around the room and made the flame flicker. The child whimpered again, a little louder. Carefully, and almost kicking himself for the whimsical action, he stepped through the open window. His boots hardly made a sound on the rug on the floor, and he crept across the floor, stopping at the cot.

The baby, a tiny baby girl, stared up at him, and he saw his own brown eyes watering in her head.

Awkwardly, and painstakingly slowly, he reached down to scoop the little one up. She whimpered again, and he drew her closer, slowly swaying as he had seen her mother do more than once.

"Hush." He said quietly, and to his surprise she did quiet, one tiny fist wrapping itself around the hilt of one of his knives. He chuckled lowly, one of his larger hands prying her small one off.

His gaze softened as she wrapped her hand around his finger instead. Slowly, his thumb ghosted over her knuckles. She hummed, eyes steadily starting to close.

He held the sleeping babe, her hold on his finger never wavering. This was his firstborn, and even though a female, and a bastard, he felt something that an assassin should never do so...love. The name of the warm feeling came to him, and for a brief moment he felt disgusted with himself. Years of hardened assassin was screaming at him to put the infant back and leave. Leave and never reappear.

But the smaller part of him, the part that still felt, was softly protesting. He knew he couldn't do that. He couldn't bring himself to be repulsed at such an innocent and small being.

A rustling had him turning quickly, clutching the infant closer to his chest. It constricted when he saw Maria sit up, and rub the sleep and dreams from her eyes.

"...Altair?" She asked quietly, in awe and confusion, but most of all hesitation.

In a matter of seconds, the still sleeping child was replaced in her cot, and Altair was across the room to the window so fast the breeze from his robes put the lamp out.

"Sleep, Maria." He said before disappearing through the window, leaving his daughter and her mother.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I do not own Assassin's Creed, or any of its characters.

* * *

It was funny what one could see from the rooftops. The dealings of vendors and their buyers, the gossip of women and men alike, and children running around in play. But there was one thing that caught the rooftop spy's eye; a young group of children who seemed to be picking on another.

In the center of a circle of three or four boys, was a young girl of 6 or 7. Her chin was stuck up defiantly, and clutched in her hands was a small wooden sword, which was obviously better crafted than those of the boys'. Suddenly, the boy nearest her shoved her hard in the shoulder, making her fall to the ground.

He slipped off the roof, making his descent down the side of the wall in the alley. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to do, just yet, but he did know that that particular kind of abuse was not going to be tolerated by his standards.

"-miserable female bastard!" one of the boys was exclaiming, brandishing the stick of a sword.

"Enough." The one word was enough for all five of the children to stop and look at him.

"Who're you?" One asked rudely, hands on his hips.

"That is of no importance. Stop pestering the child, did your parents teach you no manners?" He asked, and the boy glared at him, seemingly deciding whether or not to hit him with the stick.

"Lets get outta here and let the bastard fend for herself." He muttered to his friends, stalking away.

"What an irksome child." He said, squatting next to the little girl.

"Are you alright, little one?" She looked up at him, wiping her eyes with dirty hands. Her black hair was caught back in a braid, which was coming undone, and fierce brown eyes sparkled with determination.

"Yes sir. I suppose I should thank you...even though I could've taken them!" She said, and he raised an eyebrow.

"You could, could you?"

"Yes! I would've beaten them up!" She declared, showing him the little wooden sword.

"What is your name, child?" he asked her, offering a hand to her, to help her up. She accepted confidently.

"Aden. What's yours?"

"Fiery one? Fitting." He hesitated, "My name is...Altair." She beamed up at him, a seemingly total stranger.

"I like it!" He nodded, accepting the praise.

"This is yours? Do you know how to use it?" She shrugged.

"Kinda. Sort of." His eyebrow raised at her response.

"May I teach you a couple techniques?" her eyes sparkled.

"Oh yes! Please!"

* * *

The next hour was dedicated to Altair's instruction of swordplay. He was impressed with how fast the little girl could grasp the idea of each move, needing very little help. At one point he had dazzled her by taking out his own weapon and demonstrating each move with grace and fluidity; which she copied...albeit with much less grace and fluidity. A small bubble of pride couldn't be pushed down, however hard he tried. He chastised himself. It was not his place to be proud of this child; he was not supposed to be in her life at all. She was not supposed to come into contact with him. But still, it persisted.

It was nearly sundown when he eventually stopped. She was disappointed, obviously, but listened. It seemed he had earned her respect in the last hour, and she didn't voice her qualms when he told her he would walk her back to her residence.

However, when the door opened, he ducked behind the tree he had sat in all those years ago, quickly scaling it and looking down as Maria appeared.

"...Where'd he go?" Aden looked around, but Maria eyed the tree, a knowing gleem in her eye.

"It's alright, Aden. Go inside and wash for dinner." Aden disappeared, and Maria looked up at the tree, eyes pinning him to the branch, even though he knew she could not see him.

"Thank you, Altair." She said quietly, before disappearing back into the house. Altair climbed higher, jumping onto the roof.

It was funny what one could see from above.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I do not own Assassin's Creed or its characters.

* * *

The girl rounded a corner, her skirts gathered up in her hands, hair wild and eyes wide, trying to see in the darkness.

Behind her, she could hear the men's voices calling to her, taunting. Their torch grew brighter, and her heart stopped as she was faced with a wall. A dead end. Her hands pressed into the stones, curving around a handhold, then another. She kept going, pulling herself onto the roof just as the men rounded her corner.

"You think you can outrun us because you're up there? Come on, sweet, come play!" Their arms were thicker than hers, and they climbed much faster.

She was sweating, and her breathes were harder to gather as she ran to the other end of the roof, looking desperately up at the other buildings. They were considerably taller than the one she was on.

"No where to run now, darling." She started shaking, hugging her arms and backing up to the edge, looking over her shoulder at the street below. Far enough to seriously injure herself.

"Leave me!" She ordered, trying to sound more courageous than she felt. She received drunken laughter instead of compliance. She squeezed her eyes shut as they came closer, and turned away.

A rustle of cloth and the sound of boots crunching in front of her, as well as a wave of air made her look again.

A pair of broad shoulders was in front of her, as if shielding her away from the men.

"W-What?! Assassin!" The a couple of the once cocky and dangerous men turned tail and ran, but a couple of the men drew swords and advanced. The man in front of her turned, and grabbed her around the waist.

"Quiet." he ordered softly, jumping off the building. She pressed her face into his shoulder, biting her lip and the urge to scream as air rushed past her.

They landed in a pile of hay, quite unharmed.

They listened as the confused men went away, their mutters and grumbles from the roof fading away.

The man helped her from the hay, and she looked at him. Dressed in white, with leather, a red sash, and a hood. She couldn't see his face.

"Are you really an assassin...?" She asked quietly, brushing the hay from herself. The man nodded, after a moment.

"Yes."

"Are you going to harm me?" She asked bluntly, bracing herself to run again if needed. He seemed surprised.

"If I wanted harm to come your way, I would not have saved you." He said softly. "Are you injured?" She was taken aback by the soft tones. She would never have guessed an assassin could have such tones.

"No, thank you. For...saving me." She forced the words out. She hated the fact she had needed help, but she had and he had supplied it, so thanks was necessary.

"You are welcome, child."

"I am hardly a child. I am 14." She said, eyebrows knitting.

"...A child. What are you doing here at this time of night?" He asked, and she fidgeted.

"My mother and I are here visiting relatives. I was...wandering and became lost." Her lips said 'wandering', but her eyes said 'exploring' and she knew he saw it.

"Where are you staying?" She relayed the information, and he realized, with a dull interest that he had assassinated a traitor just outside that very residence not too long ago.

"I know of the place. Follow me." She looked confused for a moment, but nodded.

"Thank you." It was silent, but neither felt out of place. One knew of the other, the other did not. Altair watched the girl from the corner of his eye. He had used all his patience to not kill the men where they stood. And the only reason against doing so was that he didn't want her to see such bloodshed; needed or not.

"What's your name, sir?" He barely heard her, coming out of his reverie.

He couldn't risk the thought of her remembrance.

"Not of importance at the moment." She was quiet.

"I'm Aden. Thank you, again. I'm not sure...I'm not sure what I would have done had it not been for you." She whispered, and he stopped, putting a hand under her chin and making her look at him.

"Next time I won't be there to save you. For your own sake, do not 'wander' at such a time...Promise me, Aden, that you will do this." He said softly, and she blinked at the request. He could see the question in her eyes. He knew she would be confused at an Assassin's request for her to do so, but at the moment he felt that he could care less.

"Promise me, Aden."

"I promise, assassin." She said quietly, and hesitantly put her arms around his neck, hugging him for a moment. He held her, before gently pushing her back.

"This is your residence. Goodnight, Aden." And he disappeared, into the darkness once again, where he blended in, watching Aden enter the household.

"Be safe, Aden."

And he disappeared into the dead of night.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I do not own Assassin's Creed or its characters.

* * *

It was a warm day in Acre. Not unbearably hot, but definitely warmer than most other days. The streets were bright with bursts of orange and reds, and yellows. A tree bloomed with fat green leaves, effectively hiding the assassin at it's core.

Altair was staring into the house through the window, a smirk playing on his lips at the scene unfolding within. Maria was squealing, pulling a younger woman's black hair back behind her ears, pulling a brush through it. The younger woman's brown eyes were sparkling, outlined in kohl. Her black hair had grown out, and was shining from the brushing it was getting.

Aden sat at the low table, a mirror propped up on the same lamp Altair had accidentally put out 17 years ago. She was spreading a red dye onto her lips, making them appear a darker red than normal, in between giggling words to her mother and straightening the neckline on the white gown she was dressed in.

"This will be the wedding of the decade!" Maria declared, tapping her daughter's head with the hairbrush. Aden giggled, clasping the mirror to her chest as she laughed to the roof.

"I'm nervous and excited and happy all at the same time!" She said, looking at her mother.

But Maria wasn't looking at her daughter. She was staring out the window, at the tree. She could have sworn...yes! She knew she saw Altair's face in the leaves.

"Darling, could you please bring me the flowers from the bouquet? A white one." Aden raised an eyebrow, but stood, and left the room.

Maria hurried to the window, and beckoned the man in.

"Altair! What on Earth...? Are you here for her wedding?!" She demanded, looking like a cross between confused, concerned, happy, and annoyed. Altair took it in, a smirk on his face which soon left again.

"No. Give her this." He pulled a small, brown leather pouch out from the folds in his robes. She opened it, eyes widening.

"Altair-"

"Tell her that her father wanted her to have it when she was ready. Tell her he would be proud of her today." He said gruffly, the tone not matching the tender words. But somehow, at the same time, they did.

"Altair, I..."

"Tell her, Maria." And he was out the window again, nestled in the branches as the door opened again, Aden entering with a white flower in hand.

"Mama?" She questioned, rushing to her mother's side upon seeing the tears in her eyes.

"Mama, what's the matter? It's ok." She said, dropping the flower and holding her mother's arm.

Maria sniffed, wiping at the absent tears on her face. Her smile was watery, but it was genuine as she grasped her daughter's shoulders. Aden looked panicked, her eyes wide.

"Mother, have you lost your mind? What's wrong?!" She asked frantically. Maria laughed weakly.

"No, dear, I'm just fine. There's...There's something I need to give you." She pressed the little pouch into Aden's palm, folding her fingers over it gently.

"Mama...? Oh!" She exclaimed, opening the pouch. She gently fished a gold chain out, a small golden eagle attached to the end.

"It's...it's..." She trailed off, tears coming to her eyes as she stared at the delicate necklace.

"Your father wanted you to have it. When you were ready. I- He would be so proud of you today, Aden. So, so proud. I know it." Maria stuttered the words back, relaying the words Altair had wanted his daughter to hear.

The assassin's heart was wrenched, watching Maria put the necklace on Aden. He had had it made for the next time he saw her, and it just happened to be the day of her wedding. The assassin inside of him had long given up on chastising him for the emotions brought to the surface by Aden, so he was able to enjoy the moment.

"Mama, what happened between you and father?" Maria and Altair stilled.

"We...matters of the heart, duty and love are tricky, my dear. Your father and I...we...bad things would have happened to us both if anyone knew. There was no way around it, but I know he would be here if he could, darling. He would have let nothing stop him." Aden was silent for a moment.

"Tell me about him?"

Maria was silent.

"He's...strong. Quiet. He doesn't let his emotions show very much, but they run deep into him. You have his eyes, you know. He's...proud, dutiful, clever, handsome. Protective." Aden smiled, leaning into her mother as Maria's hand combed through her hair.

"Like Aleser?" Maria laughed lightly.

"Almost, dear. But Aleser's hair is much, much lighter. Your father's hair was as dark as chocolate." Aden nodded, looking deep in thought.

"What was his name?" Altair bristled. Would Maria dare?

But whether or not Maria would dare was never found out, because a servant knocked on the door, opening it.

"The groom and his men are ready for the procession to the church." She said, and both women nodded. Maria stooped, scooping the forgotten white flower up, and tucking it into Aden's hair.

"Let's go, my dear. Oh, you look so beautiful." Altair watched them vacate the room, and he considered following them to the church.

He decided against it, because he could not sneak into the sacred building in the middle of a wedding without blowing his cover, no matter how much he wished he could.

He would ask Maria about her next time he came through town. Find out how she was, where she lived. How her husband treated her.

He dropped from the tree, completely unnoticed. He paused, watching the wedding procession pass, before running in the complete different direction.

Colors blurred past him, red, oranges and greens, but he could only see white; the image of his daughter's wedding garb.


	5. Chapter 5 Part One

A/N: I do not own Assassin's Creed.

* * *

It had been a terrible day for Altair Ibn La'Ahad. Malik had looked on him with pity, but didn't say anything. He was the only one who had looked on the Master Assassin, and knew what was wrong. He knew how hard Altair was taking it, if he wouldn't come out of his room and was claiming sickness. He had come all the way from the Bureau.

Malik was the only one Altair had trusted enough to let in on the secret; he had shaken his head, mumbled something about 'trouble', but he kept his mouth shut, and that's all that matters.

"I grieve with you, Brother." Malik murmered, and even though Altair was across the room, he knew Malik knew he'd be heard.

"She is gone, Malik. Maria, and even her husband could not escape. She can't have either." Altair's voice was hallow, lacking anything but the monotone. He stared at the roof, laying on the pillows. Malik sat at his table across the room, pen poised over the scroll, ink steadily dripping onto it.

"Acceptance is good, my friend." Malik said quietly. He didn't know what to say; he wasn't making a habit of comforting men of the death of their daughters and lovers.

It was silent, and the hours ticked by, neither man saying anything as the sun made her graceful descent down the sky. Altair didn't even flinch when there was sudden shouting in the courtyard.

Malik, however, jumped to his feet, rushing to the window.

"Are you not concerned if the fortress is under attack, Altair?" He threw over his shoulder, finally reaching the square in the wall.

"It is probably some novice that was ran threw with a sword." the other said, indifferent.

Malik peered down, noting the sun was very close to disappearing behind the horizon completely. He stared curiously as a figure on horseback was interrogated, before one of the novices was asked something, and he ran into the fortress.

Malik sighed, going back to his scroll. Probably one of his brothers with a message for the Master.

Altair hadn't moved, except to shift slightly.

It was a couple minutes later, and Malik was well into a sketch; something he did in his spare time. One of his favorite things lately was to sketch what Aden would look like from Altair's previous descriptions. He had experimented, before settling on braided hair (Altair had once mentioned it was to her waist), dark eyes (Altair smirking proudly the same day Malik was told) spaced the same distance from the nose as Altair's was. He couldn't imagine what she would dress like, so on a whim he put her in assassin's clothing. He had just started on the weaponry when a hurried knock on the door startled him, nearly making him disfigure her sword.

He got up, knowing Altair would not, and opened the door, scowling faintly.

"Yes?" He asked the novice.

"Master Altair is to come down the the courtyard immediately!" He said, barely out of breath. He still held the training sword in one hand.

"He's not well."

"There's someone here claiming to be very close to him, but we can't allow clearance unless either he or the Master says it's valid!" Malik stared for a moment, before whisking the surprise off his face.

"Alright. I will help him down. And for goodness' sake, child! Don't run with that!" He wrenched the sword out of the young man's hand and put it back into the make-believe sheath on his side. And then he closed the door in his face.

He leaned on the door, thinking.

A close visitor? Altair has no family. He makes no friends outside the Brotherhood. Her body was never found in the ashes... He stopped himself as soon as the thought crossed his brain.

No sense getting both their hopes up.

"Altair, you must go into the yard. There is someone here for you." He said, and Altair finally stared at him.

"Who?"

"I don't know. Someone close, I heard." Altair closed his eyes.

"I have no one close. It is a scam."

"Even still. Air would be good for you."

"The window is open."

"I will get the Master." Altair glared, finally, before sitting up.

"Fine." And he stalked out of the room, past Malik. The one armed assassin smirked. Anger was a start, at least. Maybe next time he would have him hysterical? He swiftly followed, easily matching Altair's pace.

It was nearly night now, the sun just shimmering above the horizon.

The figure was wearing a white travel robe, which was splattered grey and brown from the dust. It also had an eery maroon stain that Malik recognized very well.

"Who are you." Altair stated, looking either indifferent or in contempt. The figure shifted slightly, and the head moved; it was impossible to see his face because of the shadow being cast on it by the hood, and it seemed to look at his friend before it groaned and slumped forward, falling off it's horse.

And during that, the hood fell off.

Malik didn't need Altair to tell him who it was. The long black hair, although singed and matted with a red crust in some places, was falling out of it's braid, and her eyes were spaced so much like Altair's that he knew if they were open they would be the same deep brown.

Altair didn't hesitate when he lurched forward, and swept her off the ground.

"Allow her." He stated, immediately allowing her access. Malik had to run this time in order to keep up with his friend, who was already at the doors of the Fortress again.

* * *

A half hour later, and Altair and Malik were sitting alone with the girl, who was tucked into a bed of pillows and rugs. Closer inspection revealed a large gash in her side which had become infected with crusted blood and germs. She had a black eye, a split lip, several minor cuts and a seemingly infinite amount of bruises.

Altair sat beside her, staring down at her. Malik had never seen such an expression on his closest friend before, and he paid close attention to it, just in case he had an urge to re-create the look on the other man's face in a sketch.

"How did she get away from the fire?" Altair asked softly, sounding more like he was talking to himself than Malik.

"With great difficulty it seems. What could have happened to her? A fire wouldn't cause these types of injuries." Malik supplied, and Altair nodded.

"No...someone took a fist to her."

"And a blade." Malik referred to the cut that would scar her from her bellybutton to her side for the rest of her life. Altair's fist clenched.

"What on earth happened?" He growled quietly. Malik had to agree; what happened to this woman?

They sat in silence long after the sun went down, and the maids came in to light the candles around them, creating a soft area of light. The moon cast additional light in through the windows of the small doctor's quarters.

Aden hardly moved, and each time she did Altair watched her carefully, making sure she did not turn in such a way as to tear the stitches beneath the bandages and blankets.

It was well into the night when her eyes did open, and she groaned softly, raising a hand to her lip.

"Aden...?" Malik asked quietly, seeing Altair was asleep. He was tense enough to have fallen asleep leaning on his arm.

Her eyes flickered over to him, and they narrowed.

"Who are you and how do you know my name?" She asked defensively, matching his volume. Malik chuckled.

"My name is Malik Al-Sayr. And you _are _Aden, aren't you? Your father told me about you. Many times, actually." She blinked for a moment, a shocked but pleased smile coming out a little.

"He...he told you about me?" She asked, sitting up slowly, trying not to irritate the burning wound in her side. Malik nodded, a small smile on his own face. The girl seemed...pleasant. Must be from her mother. Must have been.

"Yes. Did...did your mother tell you his name?" He asked cautiously. If she didn't know Altair's name, then he felt it was wrong to give it to her instead of letting Altair himself tell her.

But she grinned, nodding a little.

"Yes. Altair Ibn Al'Ahad. That's him...isn't it?" She looked at the sleeping form of the man. Malik nodded, and his eyes lingered on the other assassin before her next words made them snap back on her.

"It's hard to tell...it was very dark when I saw him last and you all wear the same thing."

"Last time?" She nodded a little.

"Yes. I believe it was him who saved me from a group of men in Damascus." Malik chuckled.

"Oh yes, that was him. I had to endure his ranting about indecent and dangerous men roaming the streets. I must say, he was very concerned."

"He didn't look 'very' concerned..."

"Child, we're assassins. It would be bad if we suddenly burst into tears or laughter on a mission." She giggled and he smirked.

"Right. Of course. So...how much did he say about me?" She asked, leaning back on the pillows more comfortably. Altair slept on.

"Well, he told me about the night in Damascus, and when you were a child with the sword. He was outside your window before your wedding, you know. When your mother gave you that necklace?" Her eyes, which were perfect replicas of Altair's, twinkled and misted.

"He was there? Really?" She asked, smiling at the older man.

"Well, not at the actual wedding. But before it. He gave the necklace to your mother to give to you." She smiled, and pulled at her neckline, a small gold eagle following her fingers.

Malik smiled kindly.

"You still have it." She nodded seriously.

"Yes. It was all I had of my father, then. He sure does sleep a long time, doesn't he?" She looked at the sleeping assassin, who hadn't fell from his strange sleeping position.

"He hasn't slept for two or three days. He heard about the fire that consumed your mother and husband, child. He was convinced you too, had been caught. He was grieving." He resisted the urge to say 'In his own way, the bastard.'. He didn't think the young woman would appreciate that. She seemed touched, as she smiled. But her words were timid, careful.

"What do you know of my mother?" Malik sobered.

"I know who she was to him. And the Creed. No one else knows about you, child. But since you showed here, they will ask questions. Your mother died when you were very young, and you do not remember her. But you live with her sister's family until they died of a sickness. There were no children." She nodded her approval. It was silent for a few moments, and they watched the candles flicker.

"Aden...how did you get out of that fire?" He asked softly, looking at her face out of the corner of his eye.

The candles cast shadows on her face, and her brown eyes suddenly looked wise, as though she had been through a life time. She didn't smile, her eyes stayed on the flickering candle.

"I would like to know that as well." Both jumped, and turned to look at him.

Aden pivoted too fast, and gasped, grasping her side. Altair was at her side, easing her into a lying down position.

"Do not move so fast. You shouldn't have been sitting up." He said, and she nodded, a grin playing on the edges of her face.

"It's nice to meet you." she said quietly, and Altair pulled his hood down.

"We have met many times before this, Child." he said, and Malik was certain he heard affection in his voice. Not much, granted, but enough that any assassin would double take.

"Formally...and I am not a child." She said, grinning. Altair's eyes seemed to gain a new light.

"You will always be a child where I am concerned. Now, about the fire."

* * *

A/N: A cliff hanger!! I know it's not like me, but this is part one of two! At least this ensures another chapter, am I right? Thank you to all my fabulous reviewers and favorite-rs and alert-rs! You're what make my muse get off her butt and write :)


	6. Chapter 5 Part Two

A/N: I do not own Assassin's Creed or it's characters.

* * *

Altair straightened, feeling his spine pop several times. It was a pleasant feeling, even if it felt a tad foreign. He took in Aden's appearance, not without animosity. Her brown eye shone brightly at him, but it was framed in shiny blues and greens. He couldn't see the dark line of careful stitches beneath the loose tunic he had retrieved from his chest. It was grey; faded. From many, many years ago, his novice days. And it was still very big for her. He had woken up to her propped up on pillows, staring at the candle with an unresponsive expression.

His heart had nearly stopped, seeing her face. He couldn't tell if it was the shock of just seeing her, alive, and in Masyaf, or the sight of the blood and bruises all over her. He had watched over her as she slept through the procedure of stitching her side up and bandaging it, the entire time seeing that little girl reflected in her face; the babe tucked securely in his arm, grasping at the knives strapped to his leather belt, the young girl determined to show the boys up, the young lady desperate to get away from the drunks threatening her virtue, and finally the young woman crying with her mother on her wedding day.

He was practically drowning in his nostalgia, but his inner, well bred assassin kept his features cold, smooth as a marble slate as the woman wrapped her ribs and hips with the soft white cloth meant to protect her skin.

He had lost count of how many hours he and Malik had watched over her. The sun had finished its descent into the sky, and the stars had appeared, winking down at them through the window.

He had fallen asleep, sitting up, his muscles unwilling to let him relax, and when he woke up she was wide awake, sitting up and talking to Malik like they were old friends.

"Are you sure you would like to know? It is...a long story." She said, and both Malik and Altair nodded. It was more than curiosity for Altair, now. He needed to know who he was assassinating next.

She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air before she started on her story.

* * *

_Aden clasped a hand over her mouth. It was not for protection, though, as she stood in the dark wardrobe. It was to muffle the scream threatening to come crashing over her lips as she watched her husband get speared through the chest with a sword._

_His own brother's sword._

_She knew that Aziz was bad news, ever since she had first laid eyes upon him. It was he, in fact, that she had been arranged to marry before it had been changed to his brother Aleser._

_She had been so relieved._

_Aziz was an evil, evil man. He had tried to...consummate the marriage before the vows, so to speak. She had screamed, and her mother had furiously cancelled the marriage, much to Aleser's parents distress. They appeased her with the promise of a marriage to Aleser, whom Maria had already met and loved dearly._

_But he was gone, now. So was her mother. As Aziz stormed out of the room, in search for her, she assumed, she crept out of the wardrobe to her husband._

_Dead eyes stared up at her, not seeing her tears. _

_She moved next to her mother, who took a gurgly breath as she stared at her daughter._

"_Mama...Mama..." She sobbed quietly, and Maria took her hand, smiling at her daughter gently._

"_Aden... hush my darling..."_

"_Mama..."_

"_I need you to find a man...his name is...is..."_

"_Who, Mama? Who?"_

"_His name is Altair...Altair Ibn La'Ahad. He's...he's...your...fa...father..." Maria was gasping now, and Aden was shaking slightly._

"_Mama, please. I will call the healer, you'll be ok!" She pleaded, voice cracking._

"_My darling baby, you know I will not...find...Altair...in...Masyaf...he will...take...care...of...you..." Maria's last words were pleading as it died on her lips._

_Aden grieved, holding her mother's bloody body close for a few minutes._

_Only a few minutes...because Aziz had re-entered the room._

"_Well, well, well. And here's the girl of the moment." She had always hated that voice. It was whiny and arrogant, exactly the way she imagined a snake would sound like. _

_She pulled the sword out of her mother's now limp grip, and stood quickly, assuming the proper stance._

"_Leave, Aziz." She said, hoping she sounded braver than she felt at the moment. He laughed, and started forward, his own blade raised._

_The rest was a blur for Aden. She remembered feeling multiple blows, and an incredible pain in her side, but it was all mashed together. By the time the world had slowed from its storm of time, she was already well out of Acre, on a speeding horse, with one arm wrapped around her belly, hoping as she drifted in and out of consciousness that she would make it._

* * *

Altair had an almost overwhelming sense of being cut in many pieces. The father in him wanted to draw her into his arms and hold her for hours, but he also wanted to cut this man, Aziz, down to many pieces.

"What of Aziz?" Malik asked, and Aden looked at her hands, still stained slightly with blood. Altair had taken 20 minutes to carefully wipe the blood off her arms, face, and hands with a wet rag.

"He is dead. By my hand. I suppose that the skill alone comes from you." She managed a smile at Altair, who let out a breath.

He was dead. His daughter had killed him. He had killed her mother, and her husband.

She had killed him. Without regret, either, it seemed. He took another deep breath, trying to swallow the large amount of information that was being thrown at him.

There were several thoughts going through his mind, ones he supposed he should have been paying more attention to, but there were only a few ones he cared to focus on...

'_She is awake.'_

'_She is here.'_

'_She is _alive.'

His eyes began to burn a little, like they had so often the past couple days, but he was not surprised. He had felt that sensation more over the past couple of days than he had in decades.

"You are strong. How old are you, child?" Malik asked her, and her eyes- flashing gold in the candlelight- flickered over to him.

"I am not a child. I am nearly 21. Younger than you, old man." Altair snorted at Malik's horrified face, and the former-Rafiq glared at her.

"I am only 40 years. Watch what you say. Your father is nearly 45. If anyone here is old, then it is him." Aden let out a laugh, which quickly died into a sharp gasp, and she clutched her stomach gingerly. Altair leaned forward, and gently forced her into a lying position.

"You should sleep. I will come and see you when you wake. Rest, child."

"Not a child."

"Sleep." Malik stood to leave, twisting this way and that. His back and several other joints created a symphony of cracking, and Malik grimaced for a moment. Aden stared at him, before smirking a little.

"Old man." Malik's eyes narrowed into dark slits as he comprehended her words.

"Has no one taught you to hold your tongue, woman?" Aden's eyes closed slowly, and both men watched the familiar color behind the lids.

"Mama raised me..." as if that was the most obvious answer. Altair moved before the stone assassin within him could protest, and his fingers moved her bangs out of her face, pads brushing against her skin affectionately. After a moment, he too got up, and grunted when his tailbone protested. He glared at his long time friend when Malik let out a small bark of laughter, both men quietly stepping out of the room. The door closed with a soft thump behind their heels.

"Old man."

"Hold your tongue, Malik. Or I will cut it out."

"Tough words for someone who was not just three minutes ago putting his daughter to bed." Altair could not respond at this, and the argument fizzled out as the two men walked silently for a few moments. The sky outside was still dark, but it was early morning. The stars were winking out, one by one. Altair sighed, and Malik watched from his peripheral vision as those golden brown eyes slid shut. A dark eyebrow rose for a moment.

"Is something troubling you, Brother? Considering marriage prospects already?" he chuckled at the immediate glare he was pinned with. "I jest, Altair, I jest. What is on your mind?" He couldn't help but stare for a few minutes as the hard glare was replaced with a smile, a genuine smile. He had not seen such a look of pure, sincere, happiness on his friend's face since their novice-hood.

"She is alive, Malik. She is here, and she is _alive_."

_**Finish**_

* * *

A/N: Well, this is the end of 'Child of None'. Thank you so much for your reviews, everyone! They meant so much to me, and they really helped my muse to get going. Unfortunate that this chapter came so late, but its here now. **And, for those of you who do not want to see Aden and Altair leave, I had a couple requests to have a sequel...of sorts. A Malik/Aden fic, perhaps?** Please let me know if you would be interested in it. It would be written in a similar style as this one...

Thank you again!

**~Lava Puppy**


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